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I first heard the sounds only as mechanical noises, much as one might note whirs, or clicks, in a machine. - (Quarry of Gor, Chapter 33, Sentence #162)

If one is unable to free oneself, perhaps by spreading out, getting to one's back, and working one's way to more solid ground, one might drown in rising tides, fall prey to tharlarion, or even, eventually, die of exposure or hunger. "I give greetings to the nameless lord, he rightfully foremost amongst his people, wrongfully banished from a far world, planner of deep deeds, master of lightning and fire, bender of iron, terror of the delta, ruler of the marshes, dispenser of largesse," called out he who was in the bow of the longboat. "You are late," I heard. I first heard the sounds only as mechanical noises, much as one might note whirs, or clicks, in a machine. A moment later, this half freezing my blood, I realized these sounds were surrogates for, or facsimiles of, Gorean phonemes. "You are late," I had heard. These words seemed to emanate from the large, hideous metal object before us, only yards away, partially risen, head and neck, from the dark water, the ship or device crafted in such a way as to suggest the features of a fearsome aquatic tharlarion. - (Quarry of Gor)